


Making Up

by CelestialReckoning



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Comfort Sex, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Lemon, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialReckoning/pseuds/CelestialReckoning
Summary: Working the rounds in a noxian prison and pretending to hate eachother's guts has certainly taken a toll on Soraka and Draven both. A night alone proves to be an ample opportunity for the couple to make up for lost time.





	Making Up

**Author's Note:**

> An oldie but a goodie!
> 
> I would like to give a shoutout to another one of my favorite DravenSoraka fics, Storms, written by Monmusu, for inspiring this! I love my rarepair very much and it makes me happy to see fluffy smut content of them. I hope I can return the favor. This fic is centered around an old AU wherein Soraka becomes a Noxian medical aide. I normally don't write this sort of stuff. I wanted to focus on the emotional aspect of sex for these two.
> 
> And to potential commenters! If it's not obvious, I write Soraka as a sex-neutral asexual. I can't see her particularly craving sex but rather craving physical closeness and being happy to appease her partner. I hope it's a headcanon you guys can jump on board with!

Draven was many things.

Draven was an egomaniac. He was strong, persistent, spontaneous, and one-track minded. But he wasn't blind. And he certainly wasn't _stupid._

In the past few days, he'd seen the starchild's mood take a nosedive. He'd watched in confusion as Soraka followed quick at his heels, or how her demeanor quickly plateaued to a sulk as soon as she walked through door of their quarters.

It was confusing, in a way, though he would be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed the extra attention it garnered in private.

Even so, not much had changed in their daily routine past their duties in the prison, with Draven carrying out his role as an executioner whilst she doted over ill inmates. The two were constantly at odds with each other, feigning disgust and hatred under the pretense that Soraka had been forced to work with Draven.

Stars forbid if Swain knew the truth.

Still, there was a general unease between the two. Even Draven could see the momentary hurt in her eyes whenever he'd raised his voice at her on duty.

A part of him questioned whether the starchild held anything against him. Her affectionate touches and eagerness to accompany him both in his duties and behind closed doors said otherwise.

Such was the case now, the two stripped from their work clothes and taking it upon themselves to occupy one of the sector's presently-empty communal showers. A risky move on their part, one would assume, but it hadn't been the first time that Draven had used an excuse if they were to be interrupted. The wardens knew better than to question him.

As confrontational as Draven was, he still kept his distance even in such a compromising situation, allowing her to dip in and claim one the showerhead as her own when it so much as pleased her.

Soraka had noticed this, shooting him a rather skewed smile. Draven noted how _crooked_ it made her face look.

**"What's wrong? Is the Glorious Executioner being a _gentleman?_ Should I take a picture so that it lasts longer, or is there a reason?"**

Huffing, the man drew an arm about his chest to shield himself from the comparative cold whilst out from under the water. **"Just figured you needed space is all, doll. You haven't been exactly _warm_ lately."**

As he usually did, Draven regretted the words only after he saw her face fall. What he doesn't expect is to see her pull closer, bridging the gap between them as she forays out from under the water.

**"I just … miss you, I suppose."**

Draven's eyebrows furrow in relative confusion. Miss him? He was right here! There was never enough _Draveeeeen_ to go around, after all. **"Whaddya mean, babe? Draven is right here! You really that wild for me? C'mon, take all of me in, I'll wait."**

Soraka sighs, a melancholy sound that bordered on frustration. **"I miss _this_ you. Cocky, silly, _private_ you, not _scary executioner_ you."**

The fire in his chest flares up, absolutely _noxian_ in its origin. What was he supposed to do about it? How _dare_ she insist that he was doing anything wrong? After all, he was playing the part for her! At least… he mostly was. At least the parts where he hurt her.

But seeing her look at him in that way of hers calms him some, a hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head in clear sheepishness. What was it she'd told him? Find a happy middle-ground? **"Shit, listen, Raka, you know I don't mean it … I mean, at least not _most_ of it."**

Those amber eyes are boring into him, and he can see her eyebrows furrow in disappointment, but still he continues.

 **"Look, babe, what I'm trying to say is that I have to act like this. Could you imagine what would happen if Swain found out? You're an Ionian, and I'm, well, I'm _Draven!_ "** Soraka rolls her eyes.

**"I'm making this worse, aren't I?"**

The starchild closes the space between them, a hand reaching for his as she looks up to her partner. Balancing on the tips of her hooves, she reaches to press a kiss to Draven's jawline. Soraka's back arches some when she feels his hand come to rest at her hip. When was the last time they'd had time for this?

 **"You're getting better,"** Professes the woman, head nestling itself against his chest. Her free ear twitches, the roar of water occupying it whilst the other listens to the steady beating of his mortal heart.

**"I suppose I just hate pretending. I hate hiding _this_ part of us … I miss it."**

A tiny hand reaches up to nestle against his cheek. Draven can feel his body flush, as much as he wishes that he could hide it. Yes, even from her, the one good thing in this literal prison that sat squarely in the heart of a constantly-conquering nation. _His_ nation.

But he doesn't fight it when her lips wander to his to offer a chaste kiss. Soraka doesn't expect him to return it quite as hungrily as he does, but she leans into it nonetheless, only just noticing both his hands cradling the curves of her rump.

Pulling back rather breathlessly, it's the executioner that speaks first, voice unusually low under the din of the shower.

**"We don't have to pretend right now."**

Sneaking a hand between their chests to cover her mouth, Soraka utters a rather coquettish giggle. It's enough to send those eyebrows of his crashing down again, mouth a hard line while she laughs at him.

**"What? Dray can do romance too, you know. I thought ladies went crazy for that stuff!"**

She shakes her head, laughs bubbling away to nothingness as she speaks breathlessly. **"I do, dear executioner. But you must forgive me, for I never see you this way. I think it makes it rather …"**

Soraka's head tilts, lips pursed into a sly smile. Her eyebrows raise.

**"Special. I could get used to this."**

Draven feels his face burn, taking note of the other ways his body is reacting to her words. For the first time in awhile, he is speechless. The starchild had a talent for doing such things to him. Perhaps that is why they worked so well together.

Where words have failed, she takes him by the hand and begins to walk backwards, gasping slightly when her back presses against the cool tile of the shower's wall.

Almost immediately does her heart begin to race. There was a strange fascination in knowing how vulnerable she was, how easy it would be for a mere mortal to hurt her. Yet he stayed his hand where others wouldn't have hesitated to claim the heart of a celestial. Pinned between the wall and her lover, she felt closer to Draven than she had in days.

Soraka was excited, and if Draven's pressing against her was any indication, he was too.

But he knew better than to test her limits, pulling her closer by the hips and stooping down some to pepper the shorter woman's neck with kisses. The chorus of pleased murmurs were enough to usher him on. Draven was always eager to please, especially for _her._

He pauses only when he feels a hand urging him up carefully by his jawbone, returning to look back at her through half-lidded eyes. A shudder is earned by her palm, which ghosts down his cheek and settles gently behind his neck.

 **"I want to see your face, executioner."** Explains the starchild, voice barely above a breathy whisper before she presses a kiss to the side of Draven's mouth.

What feels like a shock of electricity runs up Soraka's stomach when he pulls her closer, her body flush against his own as he struggles to control his own strength.

 **"Am I that irresistible?"** He growls, head foggy with the heat of passion. The woman laughs, but this time it's lower, softer. **"Something like that…"** Responds Soraka, who sealed her words with a kiss.

This one lasted longer. His lips were firm against her, but even she could feel the restrained strength and surprising gentleness in their hold. Draven catches her lips between his own, mouth parting ever so slightly. If it weren't for both the heat of the moment and the vapor of the running shower, perhaps goosebumps would've prickled along Soraka's arms when she felt his tongue swipe against hers.

Every part of him feels tense against her, huge and imposing and absolutely _noxian._ Draven's presence is intoxicating, and Soraka's breaths become heavier when he forces his way into her mouth.

It's her that pulls away first, breathless and satisfied as she watches the line of spit connecting them hold and subsequently collapse beneath its own burden.

Soraka's heart thuds a bit harder when she can feel him against her, burning and warm and _hard._ A part of her is fearful, scared of the unknown and repulsed by the act of consummation. Absolutely everything is foreign, from the electric feel in her limbs to the ache between her legs and the feeling of having a heart beating so rapidly against a mortal ribcage.

And yet everything feels so, so _right_ with her in his arms and his breath hot against her face. Soraka missed this part of him, so far from the limelight and so vulnerable in private. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be with Draven, to see the good in him and to experience it raw.

They were both exposed to each other, and she found herself loving it.

The executioner fought to control his own body, hips trembling with the urge to rut against her slick stomach. Without thinking, he blurts out an apology, fully aware of the starchild's own discomfort in times past.

Soraka smiles, a genuinely slow pull of the lips that is paired with half-lidded eyes. Her arms snake out from his grip, both hands reaching to cradle his face before she presses a gentle kiss to Draven's scruffy cheek. A tap on the shoulder signals for him to bring his head closer, and the breath of a whisper against the executioner's ear sends a thrill of excitement coursing through his body.

**"Don't apologize for this, Draven. I want you here."**

Draven decides that his name on her lips is the best sound he's heard in weeks, and his hips sluggishly give a rut against Soraka as he succumbs to her presence. Right now, he didn't care where they were, nor who saw. Draven wanted her, too. Hell to anyone that could see.

Even while his breath hitches and stutters, Soraka knows he is fighting his urges, unguided and unwilling to do much lest he cross any unspoken boundaries.

So Soraka takes him by the hand, guiding it to rest under the curve of her breast. She mumbles softly when he gives the area an experimental squeeze with his hands, a husky laugh punctuating his touches as he dips his head to lose himself in the moment.

 **"Are you blushing executioner?"** The woman teases, her words earning a push of his hips against her once more. Even if she didn't particularly fancy mortal copulation, Soraka loved seeing him like this, watching as he lost himself to a pleasure he, on the contrary, completely enjoyed.

**"Draven, _blushing?_ It's the shower, starshine."**

The two lose themselves to a fit of giggles before he hoists her up by the hips and presses her against the wall so that he's eye-level with her chest.

The fact that he can carry her is more exciting than the position she's in. Soraka can't help but feel her heart pace quicken as she braces against his arms below her, sturdy as tree-trunks and a reminder of his strength. Draven had plenty reason to brag in her eyes, and this was certainly a strong point for him.

**"C'mon, doll, open your mouth. Tell Draven what you've been longing for all these past few days. I live to please."**

Soraka holds fast to his shoulders, body trembling against the contrast of hot-and-cold as her skin presses against the wall of the shower. A careful arch of her back communicates her desires where words cannot, and Draven notes this with a cocky smile and another low laugh.

**"Why so quiet all the sudden? Yordle got your tongue?"**

When she doesn't respond, the executioner manages a reassuring smile. **"Let me take care of you."**

She feels the heat against her chest first, the warmth of his palms pressed against her skin overwhelming. The starchild leans into the feeling. Even Draven's smile is softer now, fingers ghosting circles where her tattoos spiral up and twist around her curves and edges.

Soraka's breath hitches when she feels him take her full into his mouth. A moistened finger thumbs her opposite breast. Her satisfied sighs and laughs are enough for the man, even as he fights the urge to take her for himself.

There was a distinct difference in taking the starchild when stacked up against noxian socialites, and Draven found that he'd soon come to prefer her presence exclusively. Soraka's body is small under him, smaller than usual and less endowed than the wealthy women he'd bedded in times past. Still Draven found himself lost in her all the same, his presence over Soraka utterly possessive and enthralled.

The starchild's pert body gives a slight jerk whenever she feels him roam, a hand reaching to bury her fingers in the wild tangles of his hair. Draven's teeth work anything but against him, the scrape of his front teeth and canines earning the barest of shudders from his partner when she feels them against her damp skin. There was an intimacy in being so vulnerable.

When he felt her clench and tremble under his tongue, Draven lazily pressed a kiss against the meat of her breast. He buckled, gently helping her down and making sure she was stable on the floor once more.

But she wasn't stable for long when he pushed himself against her, arms holding her hips fast. She drove him crazy, and he wanted her to know that. Draven's barely restrained frotting against her inner thigh was testament enough for Soraka.

 **"S-shit, please, Raka."** He barely manages, eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open.

The noxian hardly believes it when he feels her hand run down the bumps and muscles of his chest, stomach, and eventually his crotch. She tilts her head, mouth half parted as she presses the pad of her thumb against his slit.

Draven's back arches ever so slightly, arms coming to brace themselves against the wall. He's panting now, mouth open and face flushed. Yet those eyes are still hungrily trained on his lover, the ache between his legs unbearable. When her thumb runs against the slick of his tip, he can barely keep his voice down in reply.

Soraka is quick to silence it, leaning up to kiss him gently. The pair learn to savor this one, the intimate feel of their breath mingling making their more carnal pleasures pale in comparison. There is no taste to it, but the feeling is enough. They pause every few seconds, whether to press small kisses across their faces or to catch the other's lips between their tongues or teeth.

Yet all the while, the starchild does not pause in her ministrations, the teasing flicks across the most sensitive part of his cock driving him to thrust against her hand when allowed.

She had him right where she wanted, and Draven knew it. Never had he felt so vulnerable in another's grip, and he wasn't entirely sure why it got him off in the way it did.

Soraka smiles, and it's then when she takes him full into her palm. The feeling of his length being held its entirety makes the man grunt instantly. His body gives a languid shudder as he resists the desire to beg.

The short thrusts from his hips are answered when she presses closer to Draven, stroking slowly at first as his companion presses gentle kisses against the base of his neck. She admires him even as his breaths grow faster, chest rising and falling and giving her a wonderful view as her chin comes to rest on his pecs.

Soraka found it enthralling, in a way. How after time spent in relative comfort, she could find something new about him every time they were together. A relatively small scar tracing the swell and fall of his collarbone caught her eye.

But as she admired him, Soraka could feel the desperate jerks against her palm, his strangled breaths and how quiet he'd become, so absolutely focused on release.

Soon enough, the executioner's body comes slamming to a halt, and she holds him against her, feeling her lover come hard against her hand while she manages a delighted laugh. Soraka's leg gives a twitch when she feels his arms coil around her, holding her close. The entirety of his body shudders whenever another shot of cum splatters against her stomach, until he is spent. Not long after his jerking ceases, the executioner wobbles on his legs, breaths all but inaudible before he presses a sloppy kiss to Soraka's nose.

Leaning heavily against the wall, it is the starchild that presses Draven to it now. Yet, unwilling to appear tired, he stumbles forth, picking her up into an unusually affectionate hug. The scratch of his stubble against her cheek earns a laugh from Soraka, and she struggles to even wrap her arms around his bulk to return his embrace.

The two hold each other for a few moments, allowing themselves time to engross themselves in the other's presence. Together, the reality of their situation felt a little less painful. But as they hold each other, they know that their traipsing around in secret cannot last forever.

Draven hooks his arms against her back. Soraka rests her head against his shoulder.

**"Do you see why I missed you now?"**


End file.
